


His Red Shadow

by Hanalea_wolf1992



Category: A Song of Ice and Fire & Related Fandoms, A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin
Genre: Angst, Denial, F/M, I still refuse to aknowledge what happened in S5, Queen Shireen, Shippy feels, and more denial, post-adwd
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-12-23
Updated: 2015-12-23
Packaged: 2018-05-08 13:42:12
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,619
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5499131
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Hanalea_wolf1992/pseuds/Hanalea_wolf1992
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Even in the midst of death and war, his red shadow refuses to abandon him.</p>
            </blockquote>





	His Red Shadow

**Author's Note:**

> I'm not so happy with this one, but it had been in my drafts for so long that I decided to post it.  
> I'll probably edit it in the future, idk.  
> Sorry for any grammar mistake.

They had brought her king’s bleeding body almost before dawn, if it could be called dawn, everything was shrouded by darkness.

He had been wounded battling the enemy, the one he was born to fight. _Even after what the Lord had showed her… Even after she realized… He’s still a warrior._

She had begged the Maester to allow her to stay by her King’s side and at the end he had relented. The priestess had kneeled by his bedside and prayed, with all her might, as she had done once so many times when nightmares and memories alike had been unbearable.

_Do not take him, Lord._

_Not him._

The Maester divested him of his chainmail and she flinched at the deep gash in his stomach. She could see the man’s dejected expression, sweat gathering on his forehead. He had given up hope already. _But not me, he’s strong, he will not go without a fight._

After what felt like an eternity, The Maester was scrubbing his bloody hands as much as he could before bandaging the wound carefully. Her King remained unconscious, but still her faith, her hope, did not wavered.

She reached out and caressed his sweaty cheek. _You must fight, my King. You must._

She remained by her king's bedside for a long while, praying, begging...

_Do not take him, Lord._

_Not him._

She heard the door opening and the hushed voices of the young Maester and the Queen, yet she did not look away from his face. _Fight. You must fight._

Queen Selyse approached the bed and nodded grimly at her direction. Her king did not open his eyes, and from what she could scarcely hear, the Maester did not believe he would. _He does not now, he does not now how strong you are, my king._

 _"_ Lord Davos" the Queen called, making her notice her King's Hand at the doorway for the first time. "Fetch my daughter, she must be here."

"Yes, my queen" the Lord Hand replied solemnly and turned around.

She returned her attention to her king, still unmoving. After a while she felt the Queen's gaze on her, she lifted her face and found the other woman observing her keenly, with slightly narrowed eyes.

"Come, my lady. Let us pray by the fire."

The priestess nodded absentmindedly and rose from her position, she followed the queen, head bowed, towards the fires.

After a while, Lord Davos came back with the Princess, the little girl had tears in her eyes and looked at the bed, frightened.

“Is father going to be alright, Davos?” she asked in a small voice.

“He will, my Princess” the Lord Hand answered, albeit hesitant.

 _He will_ , she thought. _Even if you don’t truly believe it, Onion Knight. He will._

She did not know how many hours passed, how long she was kneeled with the Queen before the flames, praying, begging… Until she heard a small whisper coming from the other end of the chamber.

“W-water.”

“Call the Maester” the Queen ordered Lord Davos, rising to her feet, and hurried to the King’s side. She took a cup of water and held it to his dry lips.

 The priestess approached the bed and resumed her former position at her King’s side, his eyes were open now, although barely. _He will live. He has to._

The Maester entered and examined him carefully, changing the wound’s dressing. The King kept silent, not voicing his discomfort, but his sweaty face grew paler and paler.

When the Maester finished, the Queen looked at him questioningly, he gave her a sympathetic look, shocking his head morosely. The Queen nodded resignedly and reached out to take her husband’s hand.

“Perhaps some milk of the poppy…?” the Queen suggested.

“No” The King croaked “I will not spend the time I have left with my mind clouded. There are important matters I still need to attend.”

His breathing was shallow and he looked so weak, she had never seen him like that, never thought she would.

“When it’s over, I want you to go to Storm’s End” he told the queen.

“The fight here it’s far from over, husband. You know that.”

“You must protect her” The King rasped looking at her daughter “No harm can befall her.”

“The Princess will be safe here, Your Grace” Lord Davos cut in “No one would dare to hurt the King’s daughter…”

“No, my Lord Hand” the King interrupted “Her place is not here. I’m confident Ser Justin Massey will soon return from Braavos with and army and then… My daughter will sit on the throne that belongs to her.”

“She will, my King” Davos bowed.

“After I’m gone, you must march to the Stormlands. Take the Stark boy with you, I’m sure Lady Sansa will not object.”

“Husband…”

“We need the North, Selyse… And Rickon Stark, he’s a good boy.”

The Queen pursed her lips and gazed at the little girl, her eyes softened a bit and she nodded.

“It will be as you command” she said, taking the king’s hand on her own “I will see it done, I swear it.”

The King gave her a long look and nodded gravely. He then glanced at the Princess and smiled weakly, though it seemed more like a grimace.

“Come closer, Shireen” the King called his daughter gently. The princess walked to her father’s bed, head bowed.

The King lifted her chin with his trembling hand “You must be brave, my child.”

The princess sniffled and nodded once, lowering her head again.

“You are my daughter… my heir, and you will take what it’s yours by right” the King told her, lightly caressing her unmarked cheek “You must do your duty.”

“Don’t go father” the little girl pleaded in a small voice “please, promise me.”

“I cannot, child” the King rasped.

The princess let out a sob and the Queen took her in her arms, the little girl clung to her, hiding her face in her mother’s skirts.

“You will look after her, Lord Davos” The King told his Hand, his face had gone even paler and he winced with every breath he took. “You must guard her as if she were your own, as I will not be able to do.”

“I will, my King. They will not be alone” Davos bowed.

Melisandre saw her King close his eyes and grit his teeth in obvious discomfort, his hands trembled and his breathing was becoming even more erratic. His time was coming to an end and she had understood it at last.

She did not realize she was weeping until she felt his rough hand on her cheek, wiping away her tears.

“Do not cry, my lady” he whispered.

“My King…” she sighed, taking the hand resting on her cheek and keeping it there.

“You must still serve your God and your savior… he’s out there, somewhere.”

“You are, my King. You are my savior.”

He chuckled weakly, eyes half closed.

“Farewell, my lady” he murmured. After a moment she felt his hand go limp in hers. Terror filled her as she looked at his unmoving form. No longer being able to hear his breathing _. No, please..._

She griped his hand desperately, willing him to open his eyes. _He cannot be gone, not him_. She closed the distance and pressed her lips to his, attempting to breathe the flame of life in him.

“Bring him back, Lord. Please” she begged.

“Bring him back” she chanted over and over, but to no avail. Her King did not wake up.

"He's gone, my lady" Lord Davos called softly, almost sympathetically.

He glanced at him and found him giving her a look devoid of the scorn she had grown accustomed to, there was pity in his eyes. He knows then, he finally realized.

She stood up. She couldn't bear to be there another moment. The Queen was holding her sobbing daughter and gazing intently at the flames as if looking for answers, for strength. Melisandre glanced one last time at her king's unmoving form and left.

He walked towards her own chambers, her king's men and black brothers alike watching her. They'll now soon enough, she thought numbly. She opened the door and let herself inside. She stood unmoving for a while, her back to the door.

_He’s gone._

_He’s gone and I failed to bring him back._

The priestess walked to her shelf, filled with powders and potions. _All this, for nothing,_ she thought furiously and started throwing the small bottles away, they smashed against the floor shattering to bits. She sank down and let out and anguished howl.

Melisandre lay on the floor for a long time, broken cristals incrusting on her pale skin and making her bleed, yet she did not feel the pain. _Nothing could ever hurt more... Nothing_...

*********************************

Even with her King gone, the red priestess was still a shadow, walking through the battlements of Castle Black numbly, unseeing. Without Stannis, the men were losing hope and darkness seemed to be engulfing it all. Yet Melisandre knew it was only matter of time, the Lord had showed her at last. There was still hope.

She came almost two moons after her King’s passing, in the midst of dragon fire to chase darkness away from the world. Azor Ahai reborn.

The war had been won and the world was saved. She had done her duty as he once did his.

It was at night, when Melisandre found herself beyond the Wall in front of a heart tree, its red eyes boring into her. She sat down at its base.

Should she have asked _them_ to spare him? To the he northern gods? Did they hold more power than her god here at the Wall and for that they sought to punish her? Did gods even care for all the blood spilled? Were the human kind more than just pawns for them?

She shouldn't been thinking that, she knew. She had seen her God's power and had felt comfort in his warm and loving embrace when she had nothing more than grief and pain.

Now it seemed the Lord had forgotten her. She felt cold, so cold. Melisandre closed her eyes and felt the tears running down her cheeks. _I never asked for anything, Lord. Not for me, never for me_ _._

_Even if I couldn't have him, even if I couldn't stay by his side._

_I want to forget, Lord._

_I don’t want to feel anymore, grant me that at least._

She dreamed with stolen knights at Dragonstone, of slender but strong fingers griping hers when nightmares had become too much to bear.

She dreamed of loving arms cradling her and a gentle voice singing softly in a lost and forgotten tongue.

_Melony_

It was still dark when Melisandre opened her eyes, she was still laying by the tree. She pulled her robes tightly around her frame, she could still feel the chill biting at her skin but it was subsiding. She had not slept so soundly in so long that if felt foreign.

She saw a shadow looming over her. She squinted her eyes and found herself gazing at stormy blue eyes and a faces he had spent nights longing to see again.

_It’s been so long. So long._

He was not smiling, he never did, but his eyes were soft and his body was warm as he gathered up in his arms, and she did not feel the cold, not anymore.

The Lord Commander and his men found her the next day, a thin veil of snow covering her lifeless body. Jon ordered his brothers to take her body back to Castle Black, he saw the small smile in her lips and for a moment he envied her. He hoped one day he too would be free from the shackles of duty.

_Even in death she followed him._

_His red shadow._

*********************************

After the war, Daenerys Targaryen rode to Kingslanding. She was a queen and she intended to rule as her ancestors had done before her. She had waited for cheers and people rejoicing at her arrival. _Her people,_ but it wasn’t so. She only found hungry bellies and frightened faces, who only looked at her and the dragons with mistrust. The Targaryen girl understood these people did not know her, and they did not sew her banners in secrecy nor pray for her return.

She believed those tales as foolishly as Viserys had.

These people did not care who sat in the Iron Throne, they had bled enough and were tired of the game of thrones.

With a heavy heart, she said goodbye to the place of her birth and crossed the Narrow Sea, with her children, to find that house with the red door, the sweet smell of lemons by her window. Home.

*********************************

As spring came, the war torn country started to heal.

After dwelling for years in the Stormlands, Shireen Baratheon had marched with and army at her back and her Wolf Prince by her side, to take her lawful place. The Iron Throne that was hers by right. Asher father would have wanted.

The people had not receive her merriment, just as they did not with Daenerys Targaryen, they were still weary of the highborns and their schemes, but they remembered her father , the first one to heed the Night Watch's plea for help. The King who still cared. They heard of his sacrifice and they did not forget.

So they accepted her, still reluctantly, as their ruler and she helped them to rebuild, with and iron will like that of her father. The young queen gained their trust and in time, their love. And so, even after the harshest of winters, the crowned stag still endured.

*********************************

The dowager queen paced unhurriedly inside the crypts of Storm’s end, this was going to be her last day in the Stormlands. She would return to Kingslanding the next day and help her daughter to rule her realm. But first, she needed to visit him.

In her life, Selyse never had dreamt with songs and gallant knights placing a crown of roses on her head, she did not believe in that nonsense. She knew the life of a highborn was not all about leisure but duty, so she never expected to know happiness or love, yet she had. When she held her daughter, her Shireen for the first time she felt unconditional and infinite love.

She had cared for her husband deeply, but she knew, it hadn’t been the love of a woman for a man. Sometimes she had felt guilty for it, it was a lady’s duty to love her husband, and she knew Stannis had been deprived from it most part of his life. Yet at the end, he had found it, despite all. She wouldn't begrudge him that, not _her._ She couldn't.

She walked towards his tomb, it was simple, not bereft of a King, many had said. But she knew that was how he would have wanted it. She kneeled in front of the stone and bowed her head, sending a small prayer to the Lord.

She remembered when her and Lord Davos had buried the bones, they did it in the middle of the night, not even Shireen had been present. The Great Lords, her daughter subjects, they wouldn’t understand why she had allowed this, if they knew. No one would.

She reached out and touched the stone lightly, tracing the engravings delicately.

Here lies Stannis of the House Baratheon, First of his name, King of the Andals and the First Men, Lord of the Seven Kingdoms and Protector of the Realm.

_And his red shadow._

_The one who refused to abandon him._

 

 

**Author's Note:**

> Tell me your thoughts ;)


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